


chubby mickey

by no_its_not_nice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Chubby Mickey Milkovich, I'm Sorry, Incomplete, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Thanksgiving, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_its_not_nice/pseuds/no_its_not_nice
Summary: its about ian having the hots for chubby mickey(kinky). This has been sitting stagnant for months now, unfinished, but im gonna throw it out there because there's way too little chubby mickey content here.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	chubby mickey

**Author's Note:**

> the first half is more cohesive and was made with the intent of becoming a full work, the second half was created as more of a headcanon on thanksgiving and was gonna be used as an outline. so... this is a total mess, and again not finished and (probably) never will be. just don't have any expectations and you'll be ok. um enjoy though

From the first time Ian and Mickey hooked up, Mickey had been soft. Not soft as in lovey-Dovey, but soft as in he had a little, pinchable, pocket of pudge under his belly button. As the years went on, he only got softer, he had muscle, no doubt, arms that could beat the shit out of near anybody, but they were constantly covered by a small, sweet layer of fat. By the time Ian was diagnosed, Mickey had put on roughly 20 pounds, to his already stocky frame. You could call it, relationship weight, a beer gut, metabolism going to shit, but Ian knew the reason. Mickey ate when he was stressed, he ate twice as much at dinner on the nights he didn’t visit Ian at the club, he stuffed an extra pop tart in the toaster when Ian woke up just an hour later than normal, when there was even the smallest hitch at the rub n tug, there’d be an empty can or two of Pringle’s in the trash, he'd throw half the bag of pizza rolls in the oven and mindlessly devour them while mulling over anything and everything.

Of course Ian could tell when his angry, chubby, little thug was upset (besides the increase of his food intake), he’d worry his plump bottom lip, he’d be easier to snap at people, etc. and of course, Ian would try to relax him. Dorky jokes and rough sex were always good options, but what he realized really mellowed Mickey out, was a good home cooked meal. A couple nights a week when the stocky man was clearly on the verge of a total flip out, Ian would cook up a rich meal to feed just himself and Mickey. Heavily buttered mashed potatoes, thick slabs of meatloaf, and cheesy broccoli, or heaping bowls of rich saucy pasta, would go down Mickeys throat in rather alarming quantities. Whatever Ian would cook up, it would be calorie laden, and the bulk of it would end up sitting heavily in mickey's ever softening stomach.

Sometimes, when Mickey would come home to a hot dinner on the Gallagher’s kitchen table, he’d complain 'Jesus Ian, you tryn’ to fuckin’ fatten me up?' To which Ian would respond with a sweet smile, and walking up to his cute, pudgy, pouting, boyfriend, raised his arms to cup thick love handles (protruding over the tightening waistband of his jeans)in large freckled hands, tug him closer to meet his own hard abs to his boyfriends soft belly, peck Mickey on the lips, pull back and look at the adorable blush on his round cheeks, and whisper 'looks like you’re doing That just fine on your own,' a hand slides down to give a meaningful squeeze to his protruding stomach, 'huh tubs?' Then Mickey’d grumble something along the lines of 'its like five fucking pounds, Ian,' as he pushed away from his grabby boyfriend to get to the spread of food.

-

When Mickey went to juvie, he came out with a little more muscle, but the same little bit of pliable fat around his middle. When Mickey escaped from prison, he was soft, but no longer had love handles to dent with his fingers when they fucked. When he turned up in Ian’s prison cell, he had abs, what. The. Fuck? And of fucking course Ian missed mickeys sweet tummy, bitable thighs, and bubbly ass, but Mickey was still  _ Mickey. _ It did soothe Ian's mind to know that Mickey had toned up for lack of food rather than the thought that his man was more content(not stress eating) working for the cartel, and on the run In Mexico, than he was with Ian a couple years ago. 

-

All of this said, you can imagine how concerned(and horny) Ian was when his husband started steadily packing on the pounds a couple months after the wedding. Mickey had easily slid 10 pounds back onto his stomach and ass during his groomzilla phase, to which Ian appreciated each of those plush pounds Intimately. They had softened Back out his Abs, added an extra bounce to his round ass, and erased the slight hollow from Under his cheek bones. All's well ends well... except, Mickey continued to get seconds, grab an extra slice of pizza, and Shovel Down snacks Like he was starving. The wedding and honeymoon had gone well (all things considered), they both had stable, legal jobs, Went on a “date night” once a week, had there own (private) room at the Gallagher home, fucked at least once a day, had a parole Officer that wasn’t batshit, so, for the life of him, Ian couldn’t figure out what the fuck his sweet little thug could be stress eating over.

He did, however, know for a fact that Mickey knew he was putting on weight. The Brunette, fresh out of the shower, would saunter over to Ian,(who was sitting innocently on the edge of the bed,) with his smooth, wobbling gut leading the way, a smirk and lustful eyes, trapping Ian to his spot on the bed. Mickey had stopped half a foot away from Ian, licked his lips, and watched as green eyes roamed over the thick Roll of his muffin Top, and drawl,” see something you like Gallagher?”, You can bet your ass he did. He also knew his thug knew from the never ending complaints about how tight his boxers were getting. the waistband cut into his fat, causing it to swell over the sides, and lap over just slightly in the front, the cotton was doing its absolute best to perform like spandex, stretching to cover his ever thickening thighs, encasing them like sausage wrapping. Ian would watch in amazement as his plump husband would bend over, and the threads would show themselves between the two sides of fabric running straight down the cushiony cheeks of his ass. How they hadn’t ripped yet, he would never understand. Mickey would also blatantly rub his stretched and food heavy belly, after a night of too much dinner and beer, moaning and gripping about it until Ian cracked and rubbed his warm, doughy stomach for him, leaving his chunky man with a sweet, sedated grin on his round face... Point is Mickey hadn’t been shying away and denying his Weight gain like he used to.

Seeing his husband's thick thighs jiggle and fat ass sway as he innocently walked up the stairs while munching on a poptart, is what finally made Ian snap. At the top of the stairs he roughly grabbed at pillowy love handles, his fingers sinking into mickeys thick fat. He yanked Mickey back so his husband's plump ass smushed against his hardening dick

"Fuck Ian, " was mumbled around the final mouthful of warm poptart.  Ian felt Mickey's belly wobble as he stumbled backwards into Ian's grasp. He moved his arms to squeeze his stocky man around the middle and pull him closer. The warm lip of fat under Mickey's naval pushed out farther from the firm squeeze of Ian's forearms. He spun mickey around, and pushed his back up against the chipping wall. Ian started sucking into the soft skin of his husband's neck, while keeping a tight hold on his thick love handles. As he felt hands move to settle a grip on his back, Ian grabbed Mickey's wrists, pinning them above his head.

“Oh so that's how this is gonna go, huh tough guy?” Ian felt the vibrations of his teasing words through the lips on his throat.

Ian moved his head to see the slight smirk on mickey's face, eyes full of mischief and lust.

“You got a problem with that?”

(this was a rushed little pathetic, dropped outline thing)

Description of mickey and how hot ian is for his pudge. Ian doesn't understand how Mickey can't know he's pudging up with the way he's constantly complaining about his clothes being too tight, and Carl and lip teasing him constantly, and how ians been getting increasingly handsy with his hubbys pudge, and how mickey doesn't seem to realise hes eating almost twice as mucha s he used to.

Mickey helps cook, Ian keeps seeing him steal tastes of the food. Fiona comes and says smt like “hey mickey, looks like ian been taking care of ya, yeah?” Mick just pinches his eyebrows a bit and scoffs and goes “please this fucker couldn't survive a day without me,” completely missing what Fiona was implying about his widening waistline. He goes back to the kitchen to keep cooking, making mashed potatoes(its debbie and veronica in there with mr. plump boy) another story from ians memory about plump mickey bc he couldn't stop staring at his fat ass

They eat! Mick and ian sit next to each other, obvi. The whole table is laughing and talking, and in between forkfuls of food his chubby hubby is even participating with chuckles, scoffs, and curses. But ian is too busy watching as his plumpening man keeps shoving food in his face, adding extra butter to his rolls, cutting his slices of turkey thicker than need be, and of course drinking calorific beer all the while. Mickeys starting on his third plate ( less full than the previous two) while everyone is passing around the dishes for seconds, and ian takes a sec to look at mickey, they make eye contact and ian finally noticed how the doughboys breathing is hitching every third breath, and his round cheeks are tinted pink, and hes rubbing small circles in the side of his stretched gut. Blah blah he unbuttons his pants, makes a joke to ian about needing room, ian gets even more horny

They all travel into the living room to watch the recorded football game from earlier (after clean up) mickey is smushed between the arm of the couch and ian. Smt about mickey looking like a complete fat fuck and ian drooling over it, mickeys too busy watching the game while mindlessly shoving handfulls of popcorn in his face to notice ians looks. Kev walks in from the kitchen (with more beers) he hands fatty his new beer, mickey grunts a thanks around a mouthful of food, and kev chuckles and look at ian “you might want to get your man under control there,” and mick looks up confused like “what the fuck asshole, i aint doin shit” and ian just tightens his hold around mickey and gives a sligh squeeze to his lovehandle before saying to kev “yeah, yeah, fuck you,” to which kev gives you a big smile and ian cant help but smile too. Mick looks at ian with his cute little incredulous expression and raised eyebrows, waiting for an explanation as to that weird exchange but before ian can get anything out fiona calls from the kitchen “pies open fr whoever wants it,” and ian just hops up like i'll get you a piece.

After his pie Mickey is absolutely gorged and looks it too. (Ian goes into specific detail) Mickey fell asleep against ian with his thick thighs spread to show how much they plumped up, his torso curved slightly to accent the rolls that form at his side. Slowly the guest start to leave, (lip, tami, and fred) then kev and vee, finally fiona, she stops to talk to ian at the door and says some sweet shit like “sorry i missed the wedding, and, keep taking good care of your man”

flash forward an hour or two liam and franny went to bed, debbies doin whatever the fuck in her room, and carl had to go work a night shift at that crappy little diner. Mickeys still asleep on the couch, now shifted to lay on his side with his legs in ians lap. Detailed about how fat and round he looks in his button down and tight jeans, ians startled out of his thoughts by mickey shuffling around. Mickey rubs at his eyes, sits up and takes a swig from his beer and asks Ian if there's any pie left. Ian's eyes go a little wide, his heart doing palpations, while he stutters out an affirmative, and then a “ya want some, mick?” mickey just replies with raised eyebrows and a ‘no shit, dumbass’ look. Ians on his way back with two slices of pie, does a mini freak when he sees that mick took off his top shirt and is sitting there in his sinfully tight wife beater with his doughy gut resting ever so slightly on the tops of his fat thighs flicking through the channels. 

Ian sits on the couch, mickeys like yo gimme the pie, Ian doesn't “what you gonna fucking spoon feed me?” you betcha. The tease a bit, mickey ends up in ians lap, his warm gut nudging at ians abs every breath. Ian tries to feed mick a bite, but micks like no we’re not doing that i aint 2. He takes the pie and starts eating right on his hubby's lap. When ian brings his hands from mickeys thighs to the sides of his protruding belly and starts rubbing, mickey gives him a contemplative eyebrow. As mickey continues to eat, ian continues to rub, when he pushes the heel of his hand into the right side of his heavy gut, mickey lest out a burp, ians breathe catches as he looks up at mickey, and for the first time ever it looks like mickey is blushing of embarrassment from burping. Not that's not right. Maybe the heat in those pretty cheeks is from alcohol? Maybe stuffing himself full of food all day? Could it be that its because ian has had his hands all over Mickey's pudge? Ians willing to bet its all of the above. “Shit, sorry,” a shy mumble. Mickey shifts his weight around on ian, scooting forward and up, the back down. Well shit, there is ians boner nestled between Mickey's fat ass cheeks. Well his dick would be nestled if it wasn't for the tight stretch of denim across mickeys plump ass. Both eyebrows up “this shit gettin' you hard Gallagher?”  Blah blah blah… they go up stairs and get with it ;)

**Author's Note:**

> ah, ok its just bits and pieces that've been sitting around, but i hope someone gets something out of it!!


End file.
